Poem Found in the Pocket of an Amazon - My Bubba

Juices flow in the jungle,

rocks fall and nothing at all is sacred, in the jungle,

lips sink down to endless sips in the waterfall

in the river tall,

warmer than the sun hidden by the green,

in the jungle,

bugs procreate like it’s innate to constantly seriously date

underneath the leaves in the shade,

no sharp blade, in the jungle,

heaven’s sake, cold and straight?

Not in the jungle, hooray, my arm all the ruckus in the jungle!

More than a mate, no stove but tons of bait,

you’re never late, in the jungle, I just ate.

Snakes maybe, hold on to that branch, no not that one,

come down from the tree top,

we could gather some fruit and have a party,

come correlate we’re naked or slimy muddy or brown,

look at that small dawn the long dusk the hot night the monkeys yapping on and

on — a never ending charm.

ooh ooh ooh…

… ooh ooh …

I have a big itch somewhere in the jungle,

a big itch, in this here jungle.